Jean Sasson: Trailblazer for Female Empowerment

I first interviewed bestselling American author Jean Sasson as a bright eyed, bushy tailed postgrad student at Bournemouth University in 2007. The class assignment was to interview someone famous. Sitting in the tiny four corners of my dorm room, my mind went into overdrive thinking about who I wanted to cover. My favorite writer, Jean, came to mind immediately. Thanks to the already mature digital world, I managed to get in contact with Jean and couldn’t believe my luck when she responded and agreed to an interview. I was ecstatic. When we spoke, Jean was instantly likeable with her friendly Southern drawl. I made notes frantically as she opened her heart and mind on the other end of the phone. We spoke for an hour but frankly, I could’ve listened to her all day. Her knowledge of the Muslim world is immense having lived in Saudi Arabia for 12 years, and spending time in other Middle Eastern countries for the past 26 years.  Jean’s passion for women’s rights is limitless. She's even been on the Oprah Winfrey Show! Watch her in action.

Speaking to Jean literally takes one back to the pages of her books, her voice mirrored in the words that make for seamless and quick reading. I don’t think I have taken longer than three evenings to finish any one of her books, be it the bestselling Princess trilogy, Mayada: Daughter of Iraq, Growing up bin Laden, Love in a Torn Land or For the Love of a Son, to name some of my personal favorites. Though we first spoke a decade ago, we kept in touch and in 2010 I interviewed Jean again. Ten years on since our first conversation, I knew my new blog Around the World wouldn’t be complete without her, so here we are. Thank you Jean for being ever so gracious! Your work continues to inspire and empower women around the world …

You have been a relentless advocate of women’s rights for decades. How effective has your voice been in making a difference?

My work has not changed country laws but the difference has certainly come with individuals. Many thousands of readers have been inspired, going into careers that help people. I have seen women devoting their lives to helping the young, getting law degrees to work on women’s rights issues, or sharing their income with the poor. My work has influenced people for the better. These people can rise to political office one day and make a tangible difference. Some people of other cultures have expressed their opinions that I don’t have the right to interfere. Rape cases in Afghanistan and Pakistan for example tend to remain unaccountable with the blame placed on women. America has plenty of shame as well. The most dangerous time for women in my own country is when they are pregnant – the danger of being left or beaten by husbands who are not ready for fatherhood is prevalent. As far as my life, I’m very fortunate to have also personally known only kind, gentle men in my lifetime.  I’m not timid or shy so I have never been in relationships where men felt they could rule. When I was married to Peter Sasson, his male friends were surprised that he had no say-so when it came to my travels.  In fact, I often traveled to Thailand alone.  I went there to research the sex slave industry where girls as young as eight were sold as sex slaves. But I have experienced some shocking incidents, for example, when I was in Taiwan and Egypt I experienced men knocking on my hotel door assuming a woman on her own needed company.

What stereotypes and expectations have you faced in your life as a free woman?

People have been surprised that Peter and I chose not to have children. I always knew that I would have a career that would interfere with a normal family life. Also, I was the daughter who assumed care of my ageing parents.  My friends in the Eastern world were shocked. Even my friends from the Western world lectured about becoming old without kids. To this day I am asked if I regret not having children. I have experienced other women considering this to be a bigger issue than men. It’s been a shock for me as I always support women and expect them to support me. Some women are generous minded but others don’t want you to be too successful. Some women have been offended by my proactive stance on animals. When I see an abandoned or mistreated animal it’s not just my business but it’s my obligation to help. I can’t see a live being in pain, no matter if it is a man or a woman, although men don’t face the same difficulties as women. It distresses me greatly to see suffering in the world.

You have been fearless as the voice of the powerless, be it women suppressed under certain regimes or animals stranded by their owners. What makes you fearless?

I have never known fear of another person. I inherited this trait from my father. He lost his mother when he was 12. This was forever sadness for him. My aunt, his older sister, said he always worked.  Growing up, there was a creek near his house where everyone would go in for a swim. He would charge them a nickel to use a towel. I truly am fearless when it comes to other people and can honestly say that I’m not afraid to put my life on the line. When I gave the late Mayada advice, she shook her head and said “Jean, we’re all mice” in comparison. When I arrived in Baghdad, I refused to accept a male translator as I knew women wouldn’t dare to speak in the presence of a man. I have taken endangered routes through desserts. In 1998, I was invited to meet Osama bin Laden by a Saudi citizen living in London who knew him.  This was before the world knew who he was at the time of embassy bombings in Africa. I was unable to accept the invitation, and have lived to regret it, of course.  So I cannot say exactly why I am immune to fear, but I am glad that I am as it makes it easy for me to travel to dangerous places and get to know what is happening to others first-hand.

Though Growing up Bin Laden received a lot of attention [Jean appeared on Al Jazeerah], the Princess trilogy resonates the most years after it was first published. What makes it so special?

Both Princess and Mayada had women fighting against overwhelming odds, never giving up. The Princess risked her life to help other women, and to bring change to her  country, Saudi Arabia. Mayada was fighting for her beloved Iraq, and for her children. Both had valid, strong reasons to take risks. We love to see a champion. Human life is so interesting. When we hear stories of women we can’t help but be pulled towards them. Watch Jean on Al Jazeera.

Malala’s was a very powerful story. Do you think you might cover Pakistan one day?

I am covering Pakistan in a book that I plan to write over the next year.  I don’t like to talk about the specifics of any book project prior to completion, but my history of writing makes it clear that I will focus on the subject of women in Pakistan, and challenges that some women there face.

The evolution of digital has transformed the world. What is the future of novel writing?

Reading is a good, sensuous pleasure. I myself have read a total of two digital books as I am in love with the printed book. Yet, not everyone is like me, thank goodness.  In fact, today my digital sales exceed my book sales and this will only continue. I have a huge collection of 10,000 books, with many of those books on the Middle East and other travel books. I considered giving my collection to a library so that they might have a Jean Sasson room. Libraries didn’t agree to safeguard my books, telling me that they could not guarantee that they would not sell my books!  They wouldn’t keep them. Winston Churchill loved books and famously said “If you cannot read all your books...fondle them---peer into them, let them fall open where they will, read from the first sentence that arrests the eye, set them back on the shelves with your own hands, arrange them on your own plan so that you at least know where they are. Let them be your friends; let them, at any rate, be your acquaintances.” I love to dust my books though my nieces or nephew end up finishing the job as more often than not I’ll end up curled up on the floor with a book I’ve rediscovered. Moving forward I think that digital books will rule with only a few print book collectors in the world.

Which of your books didn’t do as expected and which exceeded expectations?

Growing up bin Laden didn’t do as expected.  I was surprised as no other books covered the subject in such a personal manner.  No one knew Osama better than his first wife and his son, Omar.  But, a movement had affected the world, bringing people to misinterpret the book. The title may have led them to believe it was frivolous. Critics tried to harm it, though writer Peter Bergen gave it positive review. As for the rest of my books, they all did really well. I wouldn’t write them if I didn’t find them compelling.

[Thinking of Hilary Clinton] Why aren’t women breaking the glass ceiling today?

Social change comes so slowly. Women are a part of the problem. Women too often treat their sons better than their daughters. My nephew is nineteen and is an example of what a young man should be. He doesn’t try to control his girlfriend or any people around him, actually. Changing the fabric of social life doesn’t come overnight. Think about how long it took women to get the vote. My mother allowed my father to make most decisions even though she was seething underneath. Even a great military and policeman who uses violence in the workplace can let it filter out at home.

What’s next?

I will write the book on Pakistani women, and I will also write my memoir.  It’s time.  I have put off writing my own story for years as I always came across another story I felt was more important and interesting than my own.  But, as said, it is time to write my own memoirs as I still have my full memory intact. 

What’s a typical day in the life of Jean Sasson?

There’s never a dull moment in the life of someone who cares and becomes involved with causes. It’s gift of God to have the intensity of empathy. It’s not happening to someone else, it’s happening to me. I’m feeling it exactly. I have to get involved. My friends say it’s a curse. My life is actually completely chaotic. I take care of living things but my house a mess. My idea of a good time is doing something that makes a difference. I’m a serious person and don’t think I’ve ever done anything frivolous in my life. Even something like playing games on my computer never entered my mind [Spoken like a true bookworm].

Follow Jean on Facebook @AuthorJeanSasson and Twitter @JeanSasson. 
You can keep up to date with her latest work on www.jeansasson.com.

Dear Pakistan

I visited Pakistan after almost four years, the longest I’ve stayed away from home before home. I had been feeling the itch for a year leading up to it. How foolish was I for waiting this long. As per my blog bio, sharing is caring and I’m inviting you on this journey which managed to shake me to my core in just two short weeks.

Schiphol Airport, Amsterdam 
I get to the airport three hours before my flight for some good ol’ duty free shopping. When I reach my gate, I am upgraded to business class. I’m ecstatic as I am feeling a little sorry for myself because I have the flu. In my fragile state, this moment of kindness makes me want to hug the airport staff giving me the news but that would be far from appropriate and definitely weird. The flight goes well until we have an hour’s delay. Dubai’s too foggy and the runway’s too crowded for us to land.  I’m worried I’ll miss my connecting flight to Karachi but I’m assured the next flight will be postponed. Fortunately, it is.

Dubai International Airport

I find a Starbucks and grab some coffee. It tastes like shite. I pretend it doesn’t. I walk down to my gate and I’m thrown right into some less than desirable Pakistani ways. The men stare too much. The concept of forming lines doesn’t exist. The airport staff scold some and remind them of the rules. We board at last. People sit in each other’s seats. We have an hour and a half’s delay. Damn fog! Some of the men think it’s acceptable to summon stewardesses for water every 5 mins. When it’s time to land, people start unbuckling their belts and standing up while the plane’s still moving on the runway.  A steward and stewardess scold them.

Jinnah International Airport, Karachi 

I make my way to the “Ladies and Children” line at border control thinking it’ll move faster. Nice try Naveen. Men filter in from the haphazard lines around us, making waiting time MUCH longer. A lady in a veil braves the situation, confronts the men and strides to the front of the line to complain. The officials tell her she’s welcome to do the same and break the line ahead of the men. I feel out of my element and don’t dare to be vocal myself. While waiting, I make conversation with a Pakistani woman who looks like she’s my age. She asks me the eternally favorite question of Pakistanis - “Are you married?”. I cheekily tell her I’m dodging the married life. She doesn't seem impressed. An hour later I’m finally past baggage claim and out of the airport. I am blinded by the natural sunlight as I exit. I hope my aunt has spotted me! She has. I walk through a bed of rose petals. Someone important must have arrived just before me. The security guard scolds someone in the crowd for littering. The driver carries my suitcase for me and when we get to the apartment, the building watchman does. Finally, someone to help me with my bags!

 
The House

It’s familiar and gloriously colourful, full of artefacts my aunt has collected from her travels around the world. It’s pristine and clean. I don’t need to ask but I know she’s spent all of yesterday preparing for my arrival. She is after all the perfect host and an aunt who spoils to no limits. It’s NYE but as I haven’t slept at all flying in I can barely keep my eyes open. I pass out shortly after 11pm and sleep through NYE celebrations which incidentally include a lot of firing in the air: Karachi’s version of fireworks. Before I do I lather myself with anti-mosquito repellent. Dengue is prevalent and with my rubbish immune system I’m not prepared to take any risks. I sleep like a baby and wake up shortly before 8am to the shrill honk of a truck.

The Mall

I recognize a lot of Western brands. The floors are shiny. I’m actually worried I might slip.  All of Karachi’s popuation seems to have found its way here. The late Junaid Jamshed’s clothing store is still open for business. As a Pakistani who listened to his music as a child, I feel sad walking past it. His current, more sober music plays in other parts of the mall. I wonder if he was celebrated as much when he lived. I look around and notice extravagantly dressed women and children. A little boy’s actually wearing a suit. Some people are taking selfies and pictures inside shops. I think to myself that they must be tourists from neighboring cities. Their excitement is sweet to watch. The price tags in some of the high end stores have magical powers. They make my heart jump a little. Then again perhaps I’m still expecting to pay what I spent on the same thing 20+ years ago when I left Pakistan.

Driving

Clearly a four-lane road is just a mild suggestion as there are at least seven lanes at any given time. The cars are honking continuously. I manage to tune some out; others are aggressive and almost manufactured to bully other drivers out of their way. I am impressed and relieved to witness no accidents. Every car knows exactly when to brake – 1mm away from the other car – no more, no less. My lengthy and expensive driving lessons in the West will do me absolutely no good in Karachi but then again I’m not sure what Algebra and Geometry have done for my adult life either.

Visitors and Visits

Neighbors, family friends and relatives come in and out of the house. There is never a dull moment. Meeting elders who life is ageing much too fast is always accompanied with excellent food, warm hugs, nostalgia, well wishes and genuine interest in family abroad. Their memories and respect for our shared history makes the meets and greets priceless. It becomes more evident to me than ever before that their kindness has nothing to do with me. I haven’t earned it. It is credit to my family and especially my late grandmother whose goodwill I am being rewarded with.

My Aunt

She’s my only aunt and therefore never had to compete with another aunt or uncle for my affection, yet, even if she had to, she would have outshone everyone. She taught me to love a sibling’s children as my own. Her hospitality is indescribable and I won’t attempt to put it in words, except that she puts the world before her. I wish that she would learn to give herself even half the importance.

My Cousin

She runs a home. She has two beautiful children. She manages everything, wearing the boss cap elegantly, smiling through the challenging periods. I have learned a lot about her on this trip. She makes me proud.

Nani’s Bedroom

I can never stay in her bedroom for more than a few minutes. It has too many memories. I can feel her presence in the room. It’s the room I spent many joyous periods of my childhood in. It’s where we shared a bed during weekend sleepovers. It’s where I wished her goodbye six years ago and her last words to me were “visit again”. Two weeks later, I did. There were no more conversations to be had. A part of my being died with her forever, leaving an empty shell of a person who will forever feel her loss.

Visiting Nani

I am surprised to feel numb as I gently sprinkle fresh rose petals over the grave, walking carefully around so as not to step on it, saying prayers for her. Then, completely out of nowhere and without warning, my heart gives way and warm tears blur my vision. The tissue I have brought along just “in case” has transformed itself into drenched, crumpled shreds in my hands. I am reminded that I have four years of suppressed emotions and that my grandmother was, as per the silver picture frame I once gifted her with our picture inside, “my best friend, my well wisher, my happiness, my pride, my life”.

The Last Supper

I leave the house for a few hours and return to the aroma of my favorite dishes. My aunt has cooked a feast. I gush with excitement over the four curries she brings over to the table. The smile on her face proves to me that she really does get immense joy from giving.

The Front Door

As I make one last visit to my late grandmother’s bedroom to wish it goodbye and step out of the house with a heavy heart, I watch my aunt lock the door, first the wooden one, then the grill. The vision of my aunt locking these doors shatters my soul into pieces. Each step I take away from the house feels like an effort, a sadness, a regret, a burden I know I will have to bear until I return again. At this moment I know I am leaving her and a part of myself behind. 

Jinnah International Airport, Karachi

The dreaded car ride to the airport doesn’t show any mercy. Emotions which usually only spring up at the airport take over in the car and stay with me. They will pass eventually, they always do. I will re-adapt. After all, the only thing constant in life is change. I hope I will be able to retain the warmth of Pakistan for at least a little bit longer. Eventually, I know the chill of the West will turn me cold again.

What did I learn on this visit to Pakistan? Roots are everything. Anything else is a distraction, a seductress leading us astray, leaving behind shadows of a lineage delicately held together by ageing relatives. There's no place like home. Dil dil Pakistan!